


Amor Fati

by berryboys



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, M/M, Witch Curses, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 21:43:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17754017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berryboys/pseuds/berryboys
Summary: Sicheng was pretty young, almost seventeen, and it was heartless to kick him out without giving him a reason. Taeil didn’t want him. And really, Yuta didn’t want him either. But there was a younger kid holding his hand, looking up at them with big eyes and an endless, blind trust, as though they had travelled a thousand miles and had knocked on a thousand doors.





	Amor Fati

**Author's Note:**

> helloooo  
> This fic has been sitting in my computer for 2 months and today I just went and said?? fuck, berry, just post it. so here we are. This isn't totally new for me but witches are always fun to write and this is the closest I'll ever be to writing a parenting fic (though the coven isnt blood related, but still those teens need their witchy parental figures). This was a commission for miss consorte. I hope you guys enjoy it ^^

Looking back at the day Sicheng turned up at their door, Yuta should have known this would be the outcome.

Taeil and he had argued for hours over if they should accept Sicheng into their house or not. The boy had claimed that he had arrived at the town because he was looking for a coven – there was one in Greendale, and Taeil and Yuta were part of it, but if Sicheng was looking for the coven there was no need for him to look for refuge. He could rent his own house, even buy it, not run to the first witches he had found in the town.

Sicheng was pretty young, almost seventeen, and it was heartless to kick him out without giving him a reason. Taeil didn’t want him. And really, Yuta didn’t want him either. But there was a younger kid holding his hand, looking up at them with big eyes and an endless, blind trust, as though they had travelled a thousand miles and had knocked on a thousand doors. As Yuta had closed the door, asking for a minute of privacy, he had predicted Taeil would put up a good fight. Jaemin and Donghyuck, on the top of the stairs, had looked at Yuta with expectant eyes, begging him to convince Taeil.

“They’re just kids,” Yuta had breathed out in a plea.

“The older one isn’t a kid,” Taeil had retorted, and he had been right. “He knows what he’s doing.”

Yuta should have known that witches only come together because it’s necessary, because they’re stronger together and, sometimes, spells require an amount of power that individuals can’t gather.

But witches are meant to be alone, and falling in love with a witch is a suffering sentence for oneself.

 

 

 

 

After four years, Yuta is the only one who regrets the decision.

“Have this,” Sicheng tells him, handing him a parchment over the table.

The three of them – Taeil, Sicheng and Yuta – sit around the kitchen’s table. It’s a dark day, a day of gray trees and withered branches, and Yuta looks outside the window every two seconds, down on spirits to carry his tasks today. Sicheng forces them to revise the inventory every month, which is quite useful but tedious; Yuta doesn’t remember the moment Sicheng started to impose his own rules in the house, he only remembers that he’s the most responsible one. And no matter what, everyone obeys Sicheng, everyone gives him the power to create and destroy at his whim. Yuta has been destroyed and created so many times, in so many senses, yet he would let Sicheng do it again and again.

“Who wasted all this stuff?” Yuta complains, checking the amount of items that have disappeared this month. Most of them are only available in the woods, and under this weather, the last thing Yuta wishes is to penetrate into the woods. The nature isn’t welcoming today.

“I don’t know, maybe the witches living in this house?” Sicheng jokes, casual as he keeps opening and closing cupboards to make sure he listed everything. Taeil snickers, not very discreet, at the dumbfounded expression in Yuta’s face. “The kids are starting to use spells more often, we should have a better control of it.”

Yuta understands that. Jaemin and Donghyuck are pretty busy with school, and on the edge of graduating, they’re making the transition to full boldness, to coming up with their own spells – and disasters. Last week Yuta had to reverse a muting spell that Donghyuck had accidentally casted on himself, and once Donghyuck recovered his voice, he ratted on Jaemin and Chenle because they had laughed and run away instead of helping him. That behavior is fine with Yuta though, because Donghyuck has to learn to deal with the consequences of his own actions.

“I’m not against it,” Taeil agrees, but he has to. Sicheng will do it anyhow. Taeil sends them a small, resigned smile. “There’s too much freedom in this household.”

He’s Donghyuck’s tutor, which means he often has a harder work than Yuta and Sicheng. Jaemin is quite level-headed and has never given Yuta many problems, and while Chenle is as bad as Donghyuck, he’s better at solving his issues, so sometimes by the time Sicheng finds out, Chenle has managed to fix it.

Before Yuta can offer his permission too, Jaemin strides into the kitchen, a sour semblance and looking like he would prefer to be anywhere but there. The three of them turn to him, even Sicheng – who has to close the Banned cupboard in a rush – well aware that Jaemin wouldn’t risk interrupting their inventory session in case he gets roped into it. Which means, in the end, that he’s taking risks because he has something important to announce.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but,” he begins, his hands resting on his hips, arms akimbo. “Chenle has secluded himself in his room with paper, a jar of honey, brown sugar and cinnamon. And I would have stopped him myself, but I have seen enough of him naked.”

There’s a collective noise of dismay around the table. It’s not the first time it happens, but Chenle is bad at following orders, or like Yuta says, he’s too good at rebelling.

Taeil sighs, visibly disgusted. “I forbid him to use love spells.”

“How many times?” Yuta asks, feeling a tingle of amusement.

“Like five times last week.”

On the contrary, Sicheng looks both amused and satisfied at the news. “It’s not going to work, we’re in the waning moon,” Sicheng points out. Then he turns to Yuta, eyes glinting with the certainty of being right, always right. “I told you we have to control the inventory.”

All in all, there are more reasons for them to take their security seriously. Chenle has been trying to charm someone for a while, fighting against their prohibitions but also against his own magic, and Yuta would laugh at it if he didn’t think that eventually someone will show up at their door claiming they’re in love with Chenle. Maybe not even the right person.

“Wait, what? Control us?” Jaemin repeats, realizing what they are discussing. His semblance shifts into indignation in a matter of seconds. “This isn’t fair. It’s not me trying to throw love spells!”

He has a point, because unlike his two brothers, he doesn’t deserve the punishment. Or so Yuta thinks.

Sicheng sets his hand on the table, bending towards Jaemin with an overconfident smile. “Who were the two boys that slept in your room three days ago, Jaemin?”

Even though Jaemin looks like he has been slapped in the face, Yuta doesn’t feel much better. Jaemin is under his supervision, and Yuta has to monitor him to some extent, yet Yuta had no idea that Jaemin had sneaked boys into the house. Unlike him, Sicheng had realized, and Yuta should be used to Sicheng always being a step ahead of him, but it stings.

Jaemin glances at Yuta first, pale like a ghost, and then he opens his mouth to gasp a clear, “How the fuck-?”

“Language,” Taeil warns him.

“You thought you could get two human boys into my house without me noticing?” Sicheng adds, raising his eyebrows at him.

“Humans?” Yuta feels his own jaw go slack, and when he glares at Jaemin, this time he’s a bit panicked, conscious of how grave that is. “Jaemin-”

Before Yuta can say what every one of them knows, Jaemin snaps, hands tightly tensed into fists at his sides, “You can’t force me to date witches.”

The way he answers – fast, decisive – shows that he has thought about it, that he has battled a whole war against it, and Yuta feels bad for him. Jaemin doesn’t have a say in it, and that’s why he was hiding them, but he’s disposed to put up a fight in front of Yuta. Yuta is both surprised and slightly proud of him, even if it’s a _huge_ problem.

“I don’t make the rules,” Yuta reminds him, and it’s not meant to be a scolding.

Perhaps because Yuta is not reprimanding him, Jaemin’s determination breaks. He lifts his chin, however, and retreats with all the self-respect he’s capable to achieve.

“Well,” Sicheng begins, sitting down and flashing them a resigned smile. “Write down that we need honey, cinnamon and brown sugar.”

 

 

 

 

Yuta remembers the first time he kissed Sicheng, but he doesn’t remember the events that led to it.

It’s easy to remember why, though. Whatever charm Sicheng has – that inimitable, unexplainable air around him – he was born with it. Sicheng is conscious of it as well, because one can’t carry such a magnificent thing on his shoulders and be oblivious of its existence. Perhaps once upon a time Sicheng ignored its existence, but it’s impossible not to notice the way people look at him. The way Yuta and Taeil had looked at him the first day as well, not exempt from falling into the web. It’s the sort of power that shouldn’t soak anyone. The sort of power that, once tasted, it’s impossible to get rid of.

Sicheng kissed him when he was nineteen. Because that’s what happened: Sicheng kissed him, not the other way around. And Yuta kissed back. Yuta would have never dared to touch him first, for dangerous things aren’t meant to be taken lightly. He had guessed that, just like him, Sicheng was lonely. Everyone was lonely at some point, but Sicheng was at a higher risk, since he refused to properly mingle with the rest of the coven.

They had been alone that night, but deep inside, Yuta had known it wouldn’t be the last time, that Sicheng wasn’t doing this just because it was the two of them. In fact, a little voice in his head whispered that Sicheng hadn’t chosen him first; that he wouldn’t have chosen him anyway, if he wasn’t the only one at home. There were certain things they didn’t speak about, and one of them was how Taeil’s gaze had begun to turn into some strange show of infatuation during the last months. He ignored why Sicheng had resorted to Taeil first, the reason why Taeil hadn’t told him, but the moment Sicheng kissed him, Yuta had understood. This was going to hurt him, and for all the wrong reasons.

Yuta would have cared, but it was hard to care about it when Sicheng’s lips were on his.

 

 

 

 

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” Sicheng told him the next day, hovering over the thyme of their garden, his fingers pulling up the mature branches.

Sicheng had woken up way earlier than Yuta, had left the bed empty for him without a word and carried on with his daily routine. As if he hadn’t spent the night under Yuta, naked and open for him, hands sinking in Yuta’s hips to mark the pace. Yuta would have believed this was just another day, but it wasn’t. His whole body was still vibrating, thirsting for another of Sicheng’s touches, for another one of his kisses.

 “I didn’t say that,” Yuta had answered.

But he should have said that. It should have never happened again, but he had watched the curve of Sicheng’s back, had sensed his serenity after the mess of the night, and Yuta couldn’t have helped but marvel.

“It looks to me that you’re expecting different things from me.” Sicheng spun on his heels to face at him, expression shard and menacing.  “Things I can’t give you.”

Yuta had a hundred responses for that. He still has them, years later, on the tip of his tongue. All of them were born out of pain, however, and it wouldn’t have been fair for any of them. They also were irrational, false, like the intruding urge of asking if Sicheng could give those things to Taeil. With Sicheng there weren’t any options, neither for Yuta nor Taeil, and it was a matter of taking or leaving what Sicheng offered, even if what he offered wasn’t what they wanted.

And when it came to Sicheng, one couldn’t just simply leave it. Yuta had to take it.

 

 

 

 

Any other witch would be alert if, in the middle of the night, the door of his bedroom twisted over its gears. But Yuta is used to this, to men sliding into his bedroom when they need it – sometimes when Yuta needs it too.

Tonight, there’s no need for Yuta to turn around and check who the intruder is. Sicheng is out in the woods, crafting a spell that he refuses to share, and the youngest three are already sleeping, though Yuta suspects that Jaemin might not even be in the house. There is more than one presence missing, but even if Yuta finds out that Jaemin is the cause, it’s impossible to drag a rebelling witch back home. It’s easier to ignore it.

Taeil doesn’t greet him, though it’s evident Yuta is awake. That’s why Taeil slips under the blankets with him, why he presses himself against Yuta’s back, arms surrounding his waist and finding Yuta’s hand over his chest. Yuta shifts to adjust, but he feels better right away, the warmth of Taeil’s body rocking him.

“Worried?” Taeil whispers, careful.

“Yeah,” Yuta admits without missing a beat. “Of course.”

In fact, Yuta can tell that Taeil is worried as well. He might not be Jaemin’s tutor, but they’re a small family regardless, in which they are more important to each other than the rest of the coven. If Taeil didn’t understand the situation, if he wasn’t concerned, he wouldn’t have walked into Yuta’s bedroom at this time of the night. It’s because he understands and shares those emotions that he’s here to console him.

“Let it slide,” Taeil advises him, as if it was the easiest plan in the world. His fingers trace the path from Yuta’s chest to his neck, slowly, and then they entangle in his hair. He pets Yuta’s hair, lazy and suggestive, and presses a kiss on his nape. “If it has to die, it will. If it doesn’t, then we’ll have to deal with it.”

There is a third option, but Taeil doesn’t mention it. Jaemin wouldn’t be the first or the last witch to renounce to his magical side just to spend his life with humans. It’s a divorce with the Dark Lord, and couples rarely remarry, witches or not.

Yuta twirls around in bed to face Taeil, drawing closer when he discovers their legs fit against each other. The darkness doesn’t let Yuta see Taeil’s whole expression, but he distinguishes a subtle smile on his lips.

Yuta complains, “Two humans, not even one. _Two_.”

The way he words it, or perhaps his tone, amuses Taeil, since he has to cover his mouth not to snicker at him.

“Jaemin is a magnet,” Taeil assures him, which isn’t a good thing. Sicheng is a magnet too. Those boys either give problems or attract problems, and Yuta doesn’t want any of those futures for Jaemin. Taeil shoots him a look full of significance, “You can’t really talk, though.”

Yuta frowns at him, certain that Taeil will catch it in the darkness. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“He didn’t have good role models,” Taeil explains. He strokes behind Yuta’s ear, like he’s distracted, but Yuta is aware that he’s touching every right spot, the most sensible spots in his faces. Taeil knows his body as if it was his own; it’s his own in a way, because Yuta is his. And it could be interpreted like regular, simple affection, but Taeil is too close to him, too impatient, and his breathing stutters when Yuta licks his lips. “That thing about falling for someone you shouldn’t? It runs in our house.”

If someone else spoke these words, Yuta would be mad. But it’s Taeil, who is involved in the same mess Yuta is; he was the pioneer of becoming a victim of this game, and Yuta would never get angry at him. Both of them would have spiraled into madness if they didn’t have each other, because receiving all the love they have wished for, one day, and getting ignored the next, once and once again, messes up with anyone’s head.

Yuta lets out a low laugh, “Fuck you.”

And Taeil laughs with him. “That’s what I’m trying.”

Kissing Taeil is a familiar, comforting feeling. Taeil loves him in many ways, some of which no one will reach in Yuta’s whole life, so when Taeil encircles Yuta’s nape and brings him to his mouth, Yuta feels safe.

Yuta knows Taeil’s body to the last detail as well, even the clothes he’s wearing, so his hands don’t fumble as he finds the buttons of his shirt, the hem of his pants; Taeil is breathless with every advance, almost surprised even though he initiated it, and Yuta laughs when he shivers upon being kissed under his jaw.

Yuta knows that Taeil likes being on four, that he doesn’t appreciate kisses when he’s coming but he appreciates a good, firm hair tug. Taeil knows that Yuta prefers a good blowjob to fucking him, that licking up his dick when he’s hard drives him crazy and that it’s impossible to edge him, because Yuta comes untouched when he’s on edge.

Yuta is needier tonight, however, and he doesn’t choose, accepts whatever Taeil offers him. He fucks Taeil face down on the bed, and Taeil moans harder for him than usual, as though he senses that Yuta wants to feel a bit powerful this time. He does just that, sinking his fingers in Taeil’s cheeks and releasing his anger on him, chasing his own orgasm without considering Taeil’s; Taeil takes cares of himself, rubbing against the mattress for friction, and Yuta laughs on his nape, going deeper and faster when Taeil tenses under him.

Afterwards, their kisses are sloppy, for they’re too busy laughing and panting. But it works. It makes Yuta forget his own concern, forget that even though he has Taeil, he needs someone else in the equation. And that Taeil needs him too, and yet after all this time, they are in the beginning line of the race: they have each other, but they can’t have Sicheng.

 

 

 

 

In Yuta’s opinion, Sicheng was a ticking bomb.

He was graceful, lonely, charming. He walked around like he was living inside his head, eyes glinting at the nothingness, and Yuta couldn’t tear his gaze away from him. Sicheng never noticed, or so Yuta had thought. As time passed, Yuta learned that nothing went unnoticed under Sicheng’s scrutiny and that, even if Yuta hid away, Sicheng could see beyond the visual plane.

Yuta didn’t know when he had fallen in love with Sicheng, but Sicheng probably did. Ignorance was a blessing in that sense, because Yuta had been able to pretend that it was only sex, that burying himself inside Sicheng was just another way of whispering power into their spells, of celebrating life. It wasn’t, of course. Yuta found out that it was impossible to feign his own feelings the night that Sicheng didn’t stay over at his room, the night that he left as soon as he finished with Yuta. Sicheng hadn’t bid him goodbye, no more kisses, no more touches. Maybe it had been that night when Yuta had fallen in love, and maybe his absence had been Sicheng’s way to place a strict statement on them: that when Yuta wanted him the most, he would escape.

Unlike Sicheng, Taeil always stayed. In a few occasions Sicheng had walked into Yuta’s room just to retreat one second later, noticing that the bed was already being shared. Sicheng didn’t mind, because it wasn’t serious for him, and because deep inside, he must have intuited that they were going to complement each other in that empty place Sicheng had created in both of them.

And so they did.

 

 

 

 

“You should bring them over officially,” Yuta proposes two days later over diner. “I want to know who you’re hanging out with.”

Naturally, Jaemin chokes on his soup, spoon falling inside and splattering liquid everywhere. Drops fall on Chenle’s face, but he bends over to pat Jaemin’s back as he coughs into his napkin, because he’s a considerate person despite all his faults.

The rest of the witches aren’t as kind as him.

“Oh, man,” Donghyuck howls with laughter, leaning back on his chair. He crosses his arms over his stomach, eyes travelling from Yuta to Jaemin. “This is going to be fun.”

“What?” Jaemin stares at Yuta like he has just proposed to sacrifice him. The concept isn’t that different for him, Yuta supposes, but it’s still somehow offensive that Jaemin finds his coven and his brothers so embarrassing. “No fucking way. That’s a bad idea.”

“Language,” Taeil scolds him.

“You know them?” Sicheng questions Donghyuck, pointing a lazy finger at him, like he’s not all that interested.

“Yep.” Donghyuck checks out Jaemin for a moment, just to see that Jaemin is shaking his head so fast that he might broke his neck. That seems to fuel Donghyuck’s intentions, however, because he smiles at Sicheng and continues, “Jeno and Renjun. They’re seniors, Jaemin met them because he sneaked into a party like… four months ago? He got it on with Renjun first, then Jeno, then both.”

All in all, it’s scary that Donghyuck has been holding all that information. And judging the lack of surprise from Chenle’s part, he was up to date as well. Which means that the only fools that had no idea about Jaemin’s affairs were Taeil and Yuta. He has failed as a tutor, as a brother, and as someone who loves gossip.

Jaemin grumbles, glower on Donghyuck, “You’re _so_ dead.”

“You shouldn’t have stolen my jacket. It doesn’t even fit you,” Donghyuck reminds him.

Yuta can’t believe that Donghyuck has betrayed his brother over a jacket, but he’s not extremely surprised. Their bickering can became insufferable at times.

“Do they know you’re a witch?” Yuta insists, trying to draw Jaemin’s attention before he jumps into a fight with Donghyuck.

It takes Jaemin a great effort to break the eye contact with Donghyuck, who has a terribly smug grin on his face.

“I haven’t told them,” he says in the end, punctuating every word like he doesn’t remember how to speak. Sicheng hums in contentment. “But apparently there are tons of rumors about our house.”

“Not rumors,” Taeil corrects him, unbothered. “Unconfirmed facts.”

Chenle chirps in, “Maybe your boyfriends like the risk of dating a witch.”

Instead of taking Chenle’s idea in consideration, Jaemin fixes his gaze on Yuta and then on Sicheng, like he suspects this is a plot between the two of them. He’s not wrong, not completely, because it was Sicheng who emphasized the dangers of mingling with humans. He knew better than any of them, for he had been living and in constant contact with humans while he looked for a new coven; as far as Yuta knows, Sicheng had even had an office job.

“Please, don’t make me invite them,” Jaemin pleads. “When Donghyuck brought that Yukhei boy over, he got greeted by Taeil and Sicheng making out on the couch.”

“It was nasty,” Donghyuck agrees with solemn nod of his head.

“Negotiation is the key,” Taeil says, clapping his hands together. He exchanges a glance with Yuta before continuing, though it’s too late to take that statement back: Jaemin is looking at him like he’s his last hope, unaware that Taeil isn’t on his side. “This means that if you introduce them to us, you’re free to bring them over whenever you want. Otherwise we can’t have strangers in our house, it’s too dangerous.”

Taeil is right. It’s dangerous for the humans, but also for themselves if the humans decide they want to spread the right – horrible – information. Jaemin is aware of that, because he stares at Taeil like an appalled animal, like he has lost the battle.

He has.

 

 

 

 

Yuta doesn’t hear Sicheng approach him, but perhaps it’s because he’s too focused on the plants, hands deep into the soil. Sicheng always walks as though he’s very light, like floating over the ground, and in the garden his steps get suffocated by the bland grass. Even if Yuta had heard him, he wouldn’t have expected Sicheng to stoop behind him, and then dive down on his knees, not minding the dirt of the soil.

For a moment, Yuta freezes, but he understands what’s happening when Sicheng passes his hands over his shoulders, fingers sinking in Yuta’s most tensed up muscles. Even though he’s taking care of the plants as a way to relax himself, it’s not working so well, and that’s what Sicheng’s fingers are pointing out. He’s not here to mock him, however, but to ease up the pressure on his back.

Yuta allows him to. Sicheng has a natural charm that calms everyone around him, so when his hands massage Yuta’s shoulders and neck, and when he rests his head on his shoulders and hugs him from the back, Yuta can’t think about anything except how good Sicheng smells.

“You shouldn’t act like you’re his father,” Sicheng whispers into his ear.

It’s not a scolding, but a small advice. Sicheng doesn’t want Yuta to feel so weighed down by his responsibility towards Jaemin, because at the end of the day, Jaemin is almost an adult and will be hold accountable for his own decisions. Especially as a witch, even if Jaemin breaks any law, Yuta won’t have to pay for any of it.

“I’m trying, trust me,” Yuta assures him. He drags his hands out of the soil, and then discards his gardening gloves with care. Sicheng doesn’t comment on it, though it’s evident that Yuta is looking for his affection when he brings his hands to his stomach, there where Sicheng’s own hands have intertwined. “But sometimes he behaves like he’s my son, and that’s confusing.”

Sicheng hums, leaning his head to the side to look at Yuta’s face better.

“He’s grown up. A man. I already was a man when I was much younger than he is now, but you and Taeil- you have overprotected Jaemin and Donghyuck.” Sicheng caresses the crook of Yuta’s neck with his lips, leaving a subtle kiss that sends chills all through Yuta’s body. “They feel that fooling around with boys is something they have to hide, as though they were kids.”

Yuta wishes he could say Sicheng is wrong. They have grown up seeing Yuta, Sicheng and Taeil entangled in a mess, and yet Taeil and he didn’t know when they had give up their supervision – of course they weren’t going to let another witch to spend the night with Jaemin or Donghyuck when they were thirteen, but at some point they should have let go. They’re a coven, and they’re supposed to trust each other, so Yuta feels a tad sad that Jaemin hid two whole boys from him. There’s the _human_ problem too, but in Yuta’s mind, Jaemin should have found consolation in telling Yuta, not fright.

“Don’t you talk too much considering Chenle is trying to spell someone?” Yuta jokes, and Sicheng giggles without shame, like he finds the situation extremely funny – and he always will. “Okay, I get it, Chenle doesn’t hide it from _anyone_.”

“And if he succeeds, which I doubt, he’s going to fix it himself,” Sicheng continues, concatenating Yuta’s words as if they were his. “Surely I’m not going to fix it for him.”

A comfortable silence surges between them, and Sicheng hugs Yuta tighter, accommodating himself into the moment he has interrupted. Yuta doesn’t care about the gardening that much anymore. He feels understood and satisfied, because Sicheng came to him without the need of Yuta telling him that he wasn’t feeling well; because Sicheng, after so many years, it’s the cause of his anxiety but also his biggest peace.

“How’s that spell going?” Yuta dares to mutter a few seconds later, as he strokes over the back of Sicheng’s hand.

Sicheng releases a low snort, amused. “My Yuta, always so observant.”

It doesn’t fly over Yuta’s head: Sicheng is trying to gain time with that response. However, he can’t pretend that he doesn’t understand what Yuta is talking about, because Yuta is being very specific about it. If he knew that Sicheng was done with the spell, he would have asked how it went, and Sicheng would have told him the result, but Yuta has been picking the continuous hints during the last months. Sicheng has been working on the same spell, again and again, which means he’s failing. The fact that he hasn’t surrendered means that it’s important and, much to Yuta’s curiosity, the fact that Sicheng hasn’t revealed what it is means that it’s too personal.

Perhaps it’s a spell that needs the energy of a coven, not of a solitary witch, and yet Sicheng refuses to share it.

“You only work on it during the waning moon, you take the same materials every time, maybe with slight changes, and you’re in a bad mood when you come back,” Yuta remarks, listing all the evident clues that denote Sicheng’s suspicious behavior. “Is it frustrating you?”

Sicheng’s chest presses against his back, inflating in a sigh that goes down two seconds later. And all of a sudden Yuta perceives him like a small, delicate boy that doesn’t know how to handle himself, who insists that he doesn’t need anyone. That has always been Sicheng since the first day he arrived. He needed a home for Chenle, so he lowered himself to ask them for that favor, and then acted like he never needed them. And then he kissed Taeil, and kissed Yuta, and fucked them when he felt desperate and lonely and in a great need of affection, but then acted like his heart didn’t have space for them. And this is Sicheng now, unable to craft a spell that he cares about, and also unable to admit that he needs at least another witch to carry it out.

Sicheng doesn’t respond right away. He loosens his grip on Yuta and slips over the soil to sit next to him, as though he owes him this moment. Yuta isn’t ready to see the disappointment and the doubts in Sicheng’s eyes, because he isn’t used to Sicheng baring himself this way. He appreciates it, and he wants to reach and cradle Sicheng in his arms until he feels better, but Sicheng doesn’t need it.

“There are limits for everyone,” Sicheng tells him, looking into his eyes. Yuta can sense this is very serious for him, that it’s not a laughing matter; it might have been eating him up from inside, and Yuta would never dismiss his suffering. “I fear this is my limit.”

As Sicheng says, everyone has limits, so Yuta feels confused at his statement. It’s not something they must fear, but embrace. Limits are there for a reason.

Careful, Yuta asks, “Why do you fear it?”

“Because I need this to work, Yuta.” Sicheng takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. The silence expands, becomes bigger and bigger, but Yuta doesn’t rush him. Sicheng doesn’t look prepared enough to tell this, and it’s obvious in his body language, in his nervousness, in how he’s fighting against himself because he _wants_ to tell Yuta, but there’s another force holding him back. That’s why, when he speaks again, his voice sounds foreign and debilitated. “I’ll live a disgraceful life if it doesn’t.”

Yuta’s heart hammers in his chest. There is a secret in Sicheng’s words, in his emotional, longing eyes. Sicheng has never given him the chance to discuss it before, and Yuta might not understand why he has chosen this exact moment, but he would never waste the opportunity. Still, he can’t push Sicheng’s buttons, because he will close up and run away.

Yuta minutely picks his next words. “Are you living a disgraceful life?”

A bitter smile invades Sicheng’s expression. Yuta realizes that he has been too obvious, that Sicheng can foresee his intentions. He isn’t going to answer, because just like their magic has limits, Sicheng has personal, strict limits. For the thousandth time in his life, Yuta wishes Sicheng wouldn’t be so afraid of revealing his little big secret. Yuta would never judge him, no matter what it is, and Sicheng is aware of that; still it’s not enough.

Sicheng lowers his head, looking at Yuta’s knees. “Can I be with you tonight?” he whispers, plagued by hesitation. This is new for Yuta, because Sicheng never asks. He invades his room and risks a rejection, a rejection that has never happened, but he doesn’t ask for permission first. “Please.”

 

 

 

 

It catches Yuta off guard.

If there’s something constant about Sicheng, it’s the boundaries he set between them. But those boundaries disappear that night. Sicheng stops hiding behind hard, rough sex and dirty words and for once he lets Yuta give him an affection that is equally gratifying and scary.

Yuta isn’t used to kissing Sicheng like he wishes to. He’s tired of the biting and the passion, empty passion that comes from lust rather than real will; he has always wondered how it would be to kiss Sicheng slowly, feeling the flesh of his lips against his, savoring every inch of his mouth like he loves him, not like he wants to fuck him.

It’s a mirage, because Sicheng doesn’t love him anyhow. He doesn’t love Taeil either, and Yuta can’t understand why. Most people would have developed feelings sooner or later after creating such a close relationship with two guys. Sicheng hasn’t. And he rides Yuta for his own pleasure, throws his head back as he fucks himself on Yuta’s dick, and Yuta has the hunch that he could be any guy, that he’s not special for Sicheng. And even though Sicheng responds to his sweet kisses, and complies when Yuta tells him what he wants to hear from his mouth, Yuta is conscious that it’s a truce. Sicheng drowns his loneliness this way, and Yuta imagines that he’s loved for a couple of hours, that Sicheng is his and that when he comes with a soft groan, hips stuttering, it’s because it’s Yuta who is inside him.

 

 

 

 

In a house with six witches, it’s hard to have privacy, so Yuta doesn’t find the right moment to vent. He doesn’t feel that he should keep Sicheng’s secret, whatever it is, because Sicheng didn’t make him promise and, because after all, Yuta knows nothing beyond what he had already figured out by himself.

However, anxiety creeps up on his skin every time he runs into Taeil. Because Taeil deserves to know, even if all Yuta can give him are mere suppositions and theories. If Yuta is as paranoid as he suspects, Taeil will tell him that it’s his brain acting up, that all those clues that seem to lead to an unavoidable ending are unclear. That’s what Yuta yearns to hear, since it would be the easy, painless route, but ignoring the truth would just push the three of them to a fastest death.

After a couple of days, Yuta has the chance to pull Taeil aside. Donghyuck, Jaemin and Chenle are cleaning the house, though Donghyuck is more prone to lie around and feign that he’s helping, while Sicheng is ordering them around. Apparently the house has to be clean as a whistle or Jaemin won’t bring his boys, as if he hadn’t secretly brought them at least a dozen times before, and Sicheng has decided it’s the perfect moment to make all of them collaborate.

When Yuta claps his fingers around Taeil’s wrist, Taeil looks up at him in surprise, but it’s not because he doesn’t understand what Yuta is doing. He does, and that’s exactly why he’s surprised. Much to their luck, Donghyuck and Jaemin are bickering and Sicheng is trying to shush them, so it’s not hard to leave unnoticed.

By the time they choose an intimate corner, right by the door that leads to the basement, Taeil is fretting. Yet he doesn’t rush Yuta: he stands in front of him with wide eyes that roam around, as if he’s scared of getting caught whispering secrets.

Yuta is tentative and asks, “Did he tell you?”

It wouldn’t be the first time Sicheng confides in Taeil before Yuta. He doesn’t consider it a personal matter anymore, since he has learnt that Sicheng leans on whoever has the best mental state in that moment, and Taeil has a way bigger control of his emotions in general.

Taeil frowns at him, worried. “What are you talking about?”

“He didn’t.” Yuta says, talking to himself. If Sicheng had made a simple insinuation, Taeil would have caught on without trouble. Sicheng hasn’t trusted Taeil for this either, so Taeil doesn’t know that there’s a problem at all. Yuta takes a deep breath and reveals, “Sicheng is trying to make a spell work.”

It doesn’t shock Taeil. They’re always creating spells, failing, succeeding. It’s not new or alarming.

“And?”

“I have a bad feeling.” Yuta licks his own lips. Admitting this in front of Taeil means he’s admitting it to himself as well, and that he won’t be able to shake it off later. “I think he will leave at some point if it doesn’t come out well.”

Taeil’s mouth opens in puzzlement, his stare inspecting every inch of Yuta’s face in search of something, _anything_ that signals that this is a joke. It isn’t, and so Taeil doesn’t find hope in his expression. Yuta decides to spare him a few seconds to accept the news. In Taeil’s head, Sicheng was completely fine, a little distant as always, but not in a full crisis that would drive him to abandon his family and his coven.

“Why would he?” Taeil mutters, and his voice breaks. Instead of fixing his own nervousness, of feigning that he hasn’t been hit with a whirlwind of fright, Taeil drowns in it and asks, “For how long has he been attempting this?”

It’s a matter of time, both of them know. The more time Sicheng has wasted, the less time they have to drag him out of his convincement.

“At least one year since I noticed,” Yuta confesses. And though there was no way for him to predict the outcome, he wishes he had dared to question Sicheng and push him out of his comfort zone. “But he must have assumed that it’d be hard, because he wasn’t frustrated during the first months. But now- now he’s upset, and surrendering.”

Taeil nods, but the glint in his eyes betrays every one of his unsaid thoughts. And to be sure, he asks the most dangerous question, “Yuta, what makes you think he will leave?”

The signs are crystal clear for Yuta, so he doesn’t need to think twice.

“He’s saying goodbye,” he explains, no need to go into detail. The way Sicheng kissed him two days ago, the way he hugged Yuta in the garden, the way he’s taking care of the younger ones, is a farewell. “I’m not sure why, I can’t- If he leaves, he won’t tell us why.”

Sicheng wouldn’t do it on purpose, but to protect them. Even if he’s reserved when it comes to his own problems, he would have told them about the spell if it was something that couldn’t hurt Taeil and Yuta. It’s sort of funny to know that Sicheng is shielding them from the truth because he’s afraid of inflicting them pain, for it’s too late to prevent that. No one is perfect, and Sicheng’s biggest flaw is that he thinks that people won’t get attached to him if he keeps his own emotions away.

“He came here without any explanations,” Taeil reminds him. Sicheng arrived like he was a ghost, asking for refuge, and he could march the same way. “But he wouldn’t do that to Chenle.”

Yuta feels a ting of pain in his chest. Maybe one week ago, he would have believed that, would have clung to that straw of hope, but after his conversation with Sicheng – about how they had to let go of Jaemin, Donghyuck and Chenle – Yuta’s views have changed. Sicheng would leave Chenle behind too if he deemed it appropriate for all of them.

 

 

 

 

Yuta is glad that they decided to invite Jaemin’s boyfriends for lunch and not for dinner, because the previous hours to the meeting are a whole chaos. Donghyuck walks around the house chasing after Jaemin, laughing at him because he’s nervous, perhaps pushing certain objects off tables to rile him up. Perhaps any other day, Jaemin would have realized that ignoring Donghyuck is the best strategy, but he’s too anxious, and the fear of Donghyuck spoiling the first meeting wins over his logic.

Yuta feels bad for him, because after all it was him who prompted this situation, but it’s better not to meddle in when Donghyuck and Jaemin are fighting. Besides, it’s pretty adorable to watch Jaemin panic – it’s a rare sight, so rare that Yuta is sure he isn’t going to witness this again in his life.

“You’re so worried about the impression we’re going to leave on them,” Chenle points out to Jaemin when it’s almost lunch time, setting the table all by himself. Taeil and Sicheng are cooking, though the laughter surging from the kitchen makes Yuta think that they might not have that much food in the end. “What about the impression they’re going to leave on us?”

“They’re normal, nice boys, unlike you all,” Jaemin accuses him, and Chenle places a hand on his own chest, smirking, as though that was a compliment. Yuta observes them from the couch, praying so that Chenle doesn’t attack back and he has to deal with three bickering boys instead of two. Before that can happen, a loud noise comes from other room – Yuta would swear it was one of the bedrooms – and Jaemin spins on his feet, eyes wide. “Donghyuck!”

Chenle cackles as Jaemin runs out of the living room. Yuta sends him a compliant look, “He’s right, you know.”

“Jaemin isn’t that nice himself,” Chenle retorts. “If they like him, it’s because they don’t like _nice_.”

Yuta taps his fingers on the armrest, entertained. Witches are always so full of themselves, even when they don’t have the right to be, and Yuta might not be free from that same sin, but Chenle is serving the opportunity of teasing him on a silver plate.

“Does your boy like that you’re trying to charm him in illegal ways?” Yuta asks him, feigning innocence.

Chenle isn’t expecting that low hit, because he’s petrified with a glass in his hand for several seconds. The effect lasts longer than Yuta would have hoped, however, and he doesn’t understand why until Chenle stares at him and mutters, “How do you know it’s a boy?”

At that, Yuta raises his eyebrows. “You shouldn’t tell Donghyuck everything, for real. He talks more than he breathes.”

It isn’t a big deal, but Yuta is grateful that Donghyuck runs his mouth that often. It allows them to have a closer relationship, to avoid certain disasters, but Yuta wishes that he stalked Sicheng as much as he stalks his young brothers. If that was the case, perhaps Yuta wouldn’t have to do it himself.

Against Yuta’s expectations, the lunch comes out clean and safe, and even looking decent. They have to retire a soup that humans can’t eat, however, because Taeil totally forgot that raw sulfur can be harmful. Donghyuck deems funny that they all sit around the table and wait there while Jaemin opens the door, and to Jaemin’s horror, everyone agrees among laughter. Scaring the boys is the most entertaining thing they are going to do today, anyhow, besides embarrassing Jaemin. Jaemin’s complaints are overheard, of course, and when the bell rings, he seems to forget that they’re disposed to terrorize his boyfriends. Yuta would pity him if he hadn’t hidden the truth from him.

Though he darts to the door, Yuta can see Jaemin dry his sweaty hands on his pants before opening the door. The angle doesn’t allow Yuta to catch a glimpse of the boys, but he hears the whispering and some noises that sound like something beyond chaste greeting kisses. Donghyuck smirks at him across the table, as though he could tell what Yuta is thinking, but he isn’t going to give him permission to spoil Jaemin’s chances forever.

Yuta didn’t make a mental image of who Jaemin was dating, but he understands it a bit better as soon as he spots the boy. One of them has black hair, is around Jaemin’s size, and looks at them with clear shyness, but there’s a pliant smile on his face. He’s cute, Yuta gives him that, the sort of cute that makes him regret that he was planning to torture them. The other one steps into the house like he owns it, which is amusing because he’s the smallest of the three; Yuta doesn’t want to be judgmental and _old_ , but the fact that he has his hair dyed blond makes him disapprove right away. It irks Yuta’s protective side that he’s holding Jaemin’s hand, like setting a clear claim on him.

“Jeno,” Jaemin presents them, waving his free hand at the tallest one. And then he side eyes his other boyfriend and mutters, “And Renjun.”

“What’s up,” Donghyuck greets them, head bowing with a casual nod.

“Hey,” Renjun greets back. His eyes scan the guys around the table, and though Yuta was sure that they looked quite intimidation, Renjun seems to differ. Or at least he’s brave enough to remark, “It’s nice not to sneak in for once.”

Next to Yuta, Sicheng smiles at that little gesture of defy. It was him who called the house his house, so Jaemin stares at him with pleading eyes, silently asking Sicheng not to reply to Renjun’s comment.

Yuta is wary of them, but Jeno and Renjun don’t have any issue chatting them up. As he had suspected, Donghyuck is familiar with them for unknown reasons, and Chenle talks to them like it’s not the first time. It’s overall a pleasant lunch, despite Taeil’s tendency to make bad, inappropriate jokes and Sicheng trying to know more about their relationship than anyone should ever know. While Jeno blushes a few times, Renjun shoots answers back at them with a smile on his lips, and Yuta catches Jaemin snickering behind his hand. Yuta observes more than he speaks, and Jeno grins at him every time he notices that Yuta is staring, no malice or suspicions on his semblance.

When they finish eating, it’s Renjun who helps Sicheng and Yuta cleaning up the dishes. Yuta doesn’t want to intimidate Renjun, but it’s scary that he feels at so much ease around them, especially if he believes they’re witches. A fearless boy can snatch Jaemin or anyone _forever_ , and Yuta isn’t ready for this.

Perhaps to get on his good side, Renjun offers washing the dishes himself, and before Yuta can stop him, he has his hands under the water. Yuta stays with him in solidarity, because it’d incredibly rude to leave the boy washing alone in the kitchen, and Sicheng winks at him and pats his back; he exits the kitchen with a knowing smile, because he’s aware that Yuta isn’t good with humans, at least not with humans that don’t fear him.

“Jaemin talks a lot about you,” Renjun says right away, blinking up at him. The eye contact doesn’t last, yet not because Renjun can’t bear it, but because he focuses back on the dishes, like they’re way more important than Yuta. “But he was also very scared of telling you that he was with us.”

The boy doesn’t beat around the bush, that’s clear. Yuta could interpret it as an accusation, a way of pointing out that Yuta had created a bad atmosphere, but it’s not. Renjun doesn’t understand why Jaemin was reticent over revealing their relationship. If he intuits that Jaemin is a witch, he surely ignores that they aren’t allowed to date humans. Renjun wants to know why Yuta disapproves of Jaemin dating in general, for he assumes that Renjun and Jeno aren’t the problem. 

“It’s fine,” Yuta tells him, yet when he parts his lips again to continue, he’s incapable of lying to Renjun and affirm that Jaemin is free to date whoever he wants. That’s not Yuta’s decision, and he’s not going to delude them.

Renjun lifts one eyebrow. Only one. “You don’t know why he was scared?”

There’s an expected role from Yuta, yet realization takes a while to hit him. If it isn’t based on overprotection, Yuta’s mistrust isn’t justifiable. If Renjun and Jeno need him to be the _parent_ in this situation, Yuta will be exactly that just to keep Jaemin’s secret safe.

“I’m demanding,” Yuta scoffs, lying. Jeno and Renjun are beyond his expectation, besides that tiny detail of not being witches. But Renjun doesn’t know that. Yuta grins at him, “Jaemin deserves the best.”

Unfazed at the insinuation that he’s not enough, Renjun asks, “And? What’s your conclusion?” He passes one of the glasses to Yuta so that he dries it, and when Yuta grabs the glass, Renjun doesn’t let go. It’s an attempt to draw Yuta’s attention for a second, and he succeeds at it. “You can bully me, but not Jeno. We’re setting the limit there.”

Yuta laughs out loud at the bravery. He wonders what would happen if he did criticize Jeno, though it’s hard to think it up on the spot.

“I think I’ll have to keep an eye on you, specifically,” Yuta tells Renjun, and the boy smiles up at him, satisfied with that answer. Yuta supposes they could get on well if they tried, and to some extent, he understands why Jaemin fits with these two boys. “That’s my conclusion.”

When they come back to the living room, Donghyuck is sitting with Jeno on the couch, an arm around him, and Jaemin is eyeing them with fear from the other side of the couch. Sicheng and Taeil have disappeared, perhaps because they consider that the evaluation is finished and the guys can have fun alone by themselves. Chenle has picked up a book from the shelf, a spells book at that, and Yuta can't warn him to be careful without directing unwanted attention to him.

Just like Sicheng and Taeil did, Yuta gives them privacy, even if it's not a completely unselfish decision. His job at intimidating the humans, which hasn't succeeded, is done, and Yuta needs to rest before he overthinks the whole situation – they're really letting Jaemin date two humans, it's insane – and says something he will regret later.

His alternative options aren't better, for when he looks for Sicheng and Taeil and doesn't find them, he has a bad hunch. Then he strides to Taeil's room, peeks inside and the view that welcomes him is everything except surprising. Far from ashamed, he pushes the door open to have a better view of Taeil and Sicheng, who don't notice the interruption. They're too busy kissing, Taeil's hand cupping the back of Sicheng's head and Sicheng's hands bringing him closer; Yuta appreciates that they didn't have enough time to undress, because then scolding them would have been harder. It's already hard, considering that Yuta would prefer to watch them to separating them.

“Are you serious?" Yuta sighs, exasperated. "The guests are still downstairs."

His voice is enough for them to get out of their daze. Sicheng is the first one to break away, blinking at Yuta with hazy eyes. Taeil whines out loud, aware that Yuta is ruining the moment, and turns his head to send Yuta a reproaching look.

“We're making out here not to embarrass Jaemin,” Taeil explains, like that's a great excuse to ditch the guests.

Yuta opens his mouth to chide him, but then Sicheng whispers, “Come here.”

Sicheng inviting him this way, with his soft, alluring voice, is a rare occurrence. He sounds fucked out even if he has barely been touched, and Yuta's determination falters. Jaemin would never forgive him if he decided to fuck Sicheng while the boys are in the living room, because they're never discreet – Sicheng becomes very loud when he's on edge, and Yuta loses conscience of his own noises.

“I can't,” Yuta rejects him. Sicheng licks his own lips, swollen and red, as though he knows Yuta is one second away from giving in. And he's right. Yuta almost trips over himself as he backs away and announces, “I will bid them goodbye.”

 

 

 

 

Downstairs, Yuta isn’t needed. But he’s proud of himself when, at the time of saying goodbye, Renjun and Jeno look wary of if they can kiss Jaemin or not. They can’t, because Yuta crosses his arms, standing by the door, and doesn’t take his gaze away from them. Kissing their boyfriends in front of his tutor isn’t romantic for Jaemin, Yuta reckons. On the other hand, Donghyuck throws kisses at them as he walks upstairs, a subtle way of making fun of the situation. Chenle simply waves his hand and pushes Donghyuck so that he moves faster, yet there’s a hidden smirk on his lips.

When the door closes, Jaemin and Yuta are completely alone, the silence of the house swallowing them. Jaemin turns around, fiddling with his hands, but he doesn’t say anything. Yuta assumes that he’s waiting for Jeno and Renjun to be far away enough in case they can hear them. Still, it’s not difficult to note that Jaemin is nervous, maybe as nervous as he was before they arrived.

Then he glances at Yuta with caution and takes a deep breath, like a kid about to confess that he broke his mom’s favorite vase. “They’re nice, aren’t they?” he asks, unsure.

Jaemin isn’t unsure because he thinks that his boyfriends aren’t nice, but because Yuta or anyone in the coven, for that matter, don’t want him to do this. Because they care about him, they prefer Jaemin to take the easy path, not the path that will bring him suffering and extreme, painful decisions.

Yuta releases an exhausted grumble. “Yeah.” That sign of acceptance, even if reluctant, makes Jaemin beam up. “Give it time and think about it. Don’t take hasty decisions.”

Jaemin jumps on him, and before Yuta can process what’s happening, Jaemin’s arms around him. It takes him a few seconds to respond, because he can’t remember the last time Jaemin hugged him with so much enthusiasm. He’s so much taller now, as well, and Yuta feels that like Sicheng said, he’s not a kid anymore.

“Thank you,” Jaemin murmurs into his ear.

However, Jaemin pulls away as fast as he jumped on Yuta, as though out of the blue he’s aware of what he’s doing. Yuta doesn’t miss the faint trace of a blush on his cheeks, and though he intended to be mad, to remind Jaemin that he has to ponder about this more than he can imagine, his tongue gets tangled up. The rest of the coven is there to judge Jaemin, but Yuta is his _family_ , and family has to back him up.

Yuta knows that Jaemin is a lost case, that sooner or later, he will renounce to being a witch. And he can’t do anything about it.

 

 

 

 

Sleepless night become a common part of Yuta’s routine.

It isn’t the first time Yuta suffers from insomnia, but it’s the first time he’s unable to pinpoint the reason. In an attempt to calm himself, Yuta chooses to believe that his concerns are centered around Jaemin, but at night his mind is a blur of thoughts and confusion. And not even for a second he thinks about Jaemin.

Taeil does his best to aid him, yet slipping under the blankets with him, making him come once and once again until Yuta can’t take it anymore, isn’t an infallible plan. Some nights Yuta doesn’t even crave for the touch of another person, and he isolates himself, locking his door so that the others know that he’s inside but that he doesn’t want attention. Then he crawls to the living room and sits on the floor, forgetting that there’s a very comfortable couch just a few meters away. He observes the little space he can see through the window, just darkness and trees and the swings Jaemin and Donghyuck played on when they were kids.

He doesn’t comprehend why his body carries him here, why it obliges him to stare outside, expecting something that never happens. Yuta wonders if he’s cursed. He doesn’t have many enemies, but one can never be sure, since witches are rancorous and have the means to take revenge on the smallest offenses.

However, the universe has its reasons to torture Yuta. He’s aware, and he fights off the frustration of waiting every night, of having to sleep during the daylight and grumbling when there are screams in the house.

Then, it happens.

It’s the beginning of the waning moon and Yuta looks outside the window. Sicheng stands there, back facing him, perfectly centered for Yuta’s vision. Coincidences don’t exist, and Yuta has been in the right place for a whole month, but not at the right time. Now he is.

Sicheng is wearing his thickest robe, though Yuta knows that in a few minutes he will be naked. It’s a cold night, yet Sicheng is carrying a bag that looks pretty heavy, determined to penetrate into the woods and complete his spell.

Yuta doesn’t know why the universe is ceding him this information, but deep inside he knows that Sicheng is going to fail his spell a last time. Perhaps that’s why. Perhaps it’s preparing Yuta so that he accepts the truth and doesn’t spiral into madness when Sicheng is gone forever. Or perhaps it’s the sign Yuta needs to believe that he can stop Sicheng.

 

 

 

 

It’s not as simple as it looks.

Retaining Sicheng against his will is a terrible idea. Yuta loves him in more ways than Sicheng will ever imagine and Sicheng’s happiness is his priority. If it wasn’t, Yuta would have never allowed him to set foot in his bedroom at night; he has always been a puppet in love, voluntary to hurt so that Sicheng felt better for a few hours.

Yet the selfish urge of having him by his side, of convincing himself that he can fix all of Sicheng’s problems – as if his life spun around Yuta – is strong.

Like Yuta predicted, Sicheng is in a bad mood for several days. He confines himself in his room, and every second Yuta fears he’s packing his belongings, ears perking up at the slightest noise. Out of his own paranoia, Yuta observes the coven with attentive eyes, hopeful to distinguish suspicious stares, but none of his brothers finds Sicheng’s behavior odd.

However, Taeil begins to linger around Yuta more often, to lean his head towards him in an attempt to read his energy when he thinks Yuta isn’t paying attention. And it’s frustrating, since Yuta is dying to reveal what he has discovered, but the fact that Taeil hasn’t noticed anything unusual in Sicheng makes Yuta question himself. What if Taeil assumes that he’s under so much pressure, under a notable lack of sleep, and that his mind is inventing theories?

Yuta isn’t sure of it either. The only certainty he holds is that something is going to happen, and he ignores his role in it, if he has any. So he sits back, gives himself a good night of sleep, and then takes a decision.

 

 

 

 

It’s a Saturday, and there’s a boy in their front yard.

The thing is, for security reasons, Yuta and Taeil chose this house because it was in the middle of the woods, far away from the closest town and the closest humans. Far away from other witches, too, which is just as important.

So of course, a boy waiting in front of their house is _alarming_. Taeil is the first one to notice, and the way he screeches alerts the whole house. Yuta is still in bed, but when he exits his room, Donghyuck and Jaemin are running downstairs, and Sicheng is lazily following behind with a resigned expression.

Yuta doesn’t stay behind, curiosity invading the best of him. By the time he reaches the first floor, Donghyuck, Jaemin and Taeil are crowded around the kitchen’s window, while Sicheng has propped himself up on the table. He’s interested too, but too sleepy to push himself among three excessively eager guys. Yuta doesn’t remember the last time he witnessed a scene of this caliber, and he can’t help but snicker as he approaches the window; he doesn’t need to push his brothers away, because it’s easy to locate the boy that is gathering so much attention.

He’s a teenager, there’s no doubt about it, though he’s pretty tall and slim, and there’s an air of maturity in his face. At least until he swings his head around, like he can sense that he’s being watched, and his eyes fall on the window. Shameless as they are, none of the witches moves away or tries to pretend that they aren’t spying on him. All of a sudden, the subtle hint of maturity fades away from the boy’s face, wide eyes nervously looking away.

“What is Jisung doing here?” Donghyuck asks, puzzled, as he glances at Jaemin for an answer. Jaemin shrugs.

Taeil raises his eyebrows at them, impressed, “You know him?”

And Donghyuck and Jaemin answer at the same time, respectively:

“He’s a nightmare.”

“He’s cute.”

“I assume he’s not here for you two,” Taeil concludes, scoffing.

Yuta has to bite his tongue not to give his opinion. He exchanges a glance with Sicheng, however, who shoots him an all knowing smirk. It becomes obvious what Sicheng is supposing, and Yuta can agree with him right away, but he doesn’t want to ruin the fun of letting their brothers face the upcoming surprise.

Yuta jumps on the table with Sicheng, smiling, and Sicheng intertwines their hands together. It’s the first time in weeks that Yuta feels happy, yet there’s a bittersweet taste on his mouth, because Sicheng’s intentions are still crystal clear to him. It hurts that he can still hold Yuta’s hand and hide such a big secret from him, that he has the heart to abandon him after making him so happy.

When a deafening noise is born on the second floor, Yuta isn’t impressed. Two seconds later, Chenle is running across the hall, jumping the stairs without looking out for his life, and darting directly to the door. That’s it, until he notices that all his brothers are in the kitchen, observing him with incredulity on their faces, and Chenle’s hand freezes on the doorknob.

“The spell worked!” he screams, making all of them flinch.

It hasn’t worked, obviously. Sicheng has to cover his mouth to repress his laughter, but Yuta feels incredibly touched at Chenle’s gullibility. No matter how many times they have told him that it’s impossible to cast a love spell during the waning moon, for it’s a constructive spell, Chenle doesn’t believe them. And there he is now, claiming that he has succeeded against the laws of magic and nature, but overall, enamored with the idea of finally getting his boy.

“Just leave,” Jaemin grunts, annoyed, and he detaches from the window. “All this time you’ve been trying to make Jisung fall in love with you?”

“What’s the problem?” Chenle protests.

If Yuta were Jaemin, he wouldn’t dare to say a single thing against his whole plan, because Chenle looks determined to throw a punch if any of them are negative about Jisung.

“I didn’t want a younger brother for him to have such bad taste,” Donghyuck announces before Jaemin can give his own opinion. He dramatically sighs, striding away from the kitchen and towards the stairs; he receives a punch from Chenle when he passes by, and everyone laughs at Donghyuck’s yelp of pain. “I’m disappointed!”

“You’re just jealous because he ranked higher than you in the last evaluations,” Chenle spits at him, serious. “Grow up.”

For once in his life, Yuta has the pleasure to see how Donghyuck doesn’t have a comeback for that. He huffs several times as he walks back to his room, and Jaemin trails after him with the clear intention of teasing him until Donghyuck explodes.

Then something that has never happened, happens: Chenle gazes at Sicheng, like asking for permission, and Sicheng nods at him. Chenle doesn’t waste his time and nearly trips over his own feet while he runs out of the house.

This time, Sicheng and Yuta do gather around the window, too interested in how much time it will take Chenle to realize that his spell failed. Jisung’s smile widens as soon as he spots Chenle, forgetting that there are some snooping witches watching them, and he offers his hand for Chenle.

“That boy isn’t under a spell,” Taeil observes, a satisfied smile plastered on his face. “He’s just whipped.”

“I’m more impressed at the fact that Chenle thinks he can charm another witch that easily.” Sicheng throws his arms around their shoulders, laughing. Taeil brings up his hand to touch Sicheng’s fingers over his collarbones. “Don’t they learn anything at school?”

At this point Yuta doubts they do. But it’s natural for them to develop their magical side alone, not sticking to rules and manuals. It’s more fun that way, for better and for worse. If Chenle wants to think that Jisung is under a love spell, they can let him be; Jisung is under a love spell, in a way, but it didn’t imply brown sugar, honey and cinnamon.

 

 

 

 

The calendar marks June, yet another waning moon for Yuta to shiver.

He has had time to prepare, however, and he confronts the future with a new perspective. With determination. He tosses away his morals, because sometimes he has to forget boundaries to protect his brothers, and decides that he won’t wait for Sicheng to reveal his secret anymore.

Any spell is nothing but a ritual, which means that Yuta knows when and how Sicheng will make his next attempt. Yuta traces his plan with care, because the force that was leading him before doesn’t exist anymore, so he can’t expect Sicheng not to spot him if he waits for the right time in the living room.

Sicheng is silent as always, but he’s wearing the same robe and carrying the same bag. It’s ironical that Sicheng wanted to have a tighter control of the inventory, because it’s the main reason Yuta has predicted his steps. It’s the main reason Yuta has his heart in a fist, for he was able to list the missing items, to look them up and find the possible spells Sicheng might be carrying out.

None of those spells were good news.

Even if Yuta has talked himself into his own plan, guilt seeps through his veins when he chases after Sicheng. Being soundless in the woods at night requires of extreme attention; Yuta could disguise taking advantage of the noise Sicheng makes, but Sicheng’s steps are light and familiar with every inch of the woods. He has been doing this spell for almost a whole year.

Yuta keeps the distance when Sicheng halts. The chosen place isn’t special, at least at clear sight, and Sicheng opens his bag under a tree without inspecting the zone. It’s evident that Sicheng has found a special trait in this zone though, because he blindly sets every item around, like he has memorized every slope of the field. And even though it’s dangerous to use candles among vegetation, Sicheng is desperate enough to pull the energy out of them, lighting around twenty candles in a circle.

Yuta waits, heart dropping lower and lower. Sicheng gets rid of his robe, his bare figure illuminated by the moon, and Yuta sucks in a breath. He has touched and explored all of Sicheng, yet there’s nothing more beautiful than watching him like this, like the witch he is.

Falling in love with him makes so much sense. Sicheng is the only one who can break Yuta and Taeil’s hearts, because one day someone made that out of him and liberated him into the world, letting Sicheng drown in his own curse.

When Sicheng begins to chant, Yuta understands the nature of the curse, and thus Sicheng’s nature. The words he’s chanting are clear. He understands why Sicheng would abandon them without a word. _It looks to me that you’re expecting different things from me. Things I can’t give you_. Things that Sicheng can’t give him, not things that he doesn’t want to give them.

Yuta stays until the end of the spell and beyond that. Sicheng doesn’t leave after finishing: he remains on his knees, head up and eyes staring up at the sky, as if the result of his spell will come in the form of thunder. Yuta looks up as well, becomes his smallest self in his hiding spot, and holds his breath until Sicheng leaves.

 

 

 

 

In the morning, Sicheng doesn’t say a word. They have breakfast together, but only Jaemin, Donghyuck and Chenle talk. Taeil has his stare fixed on Yuta, and Yuta can’t help but wonder how bad he’s looking today, to what extent his feelings are transparent. Yuta doesn’t mind that Taeil notices, for he plans to tell him everything he saw last night as soon as they have a moment of intimacy.

Being as sensible as he is, there’s no way Sicheng can’t detect the tense atmosphere around them. Yuta isn’t making an effort to being subtle either, gazing at Sicheng with blatant pity. He’s aware that no one appreciates being the target of such emotions, but Yuta has just spent the worst night of his life and couldn’t care less.

Four years. Sicheng has been rotting with that secret for four years. For longer, actually, but it has been four years of trying to build a relationship with Taeil and Yuta even if he knew it wasn’t possible. Chenle doesn’t know the truth, that much Yuta can infer, because he wouldn’t be happy and able to mind his own business if he did. It’s comprehensible why Sicheng never told him or why he didn’t confess it to Yuta or Taeil either. After only a few hours, Yuta is already anguished, wishing he could destroy the curse by throwing punches and crying. Sicheng must have cried so, so much, too.

When the younger brothers leave for school, Donghyuck criticizing Jisung and Chenle pinching Donghyuck’s arms until he cries out, Taeil settles his mug on the table with a loud noise. That startles Sicheng, who was sinking his face into his bowl, and makes Yuta snap his head towards Taeil.

“What’s wrong?” His voice could cut anyone in pieces, and even when Sicheng gives him a bewildered look, Taeil doesn’t flinch. “You two. What’s happening?”

Yuta has to take this chance. It will be physically painful to bring up the topic later and if he lets this moment pass, one day it might be too late to fix anything. Despite the logic of that, it’s not simple for Yuta to do this: he’s breaking Sicheng’s trust, exposing what he doesn’t want to share, and Sicheng might hate him for it.

Once Yuta makes the decision, the air around them shifts. Yuta’s shoulders tense up and he sits with his back straight; Sicheng and Taeil stare at him, attracted by the change in his behavior. There’s terror in Sicheng’s expression, for he’s linking all the signs and clues and completing the map. He could beg, and yet that wouldn’t stop Yuta from talking. What is he supposed to beg for, anyhow? For Yuta to let him be miserable?

Still, Yuta focuses on Taeil’s eyes, because Sicheng’s glassy eyes can destroy Yuta’s resolution.

Yuta doesn’t recognize his own voice as he says, “Sicheng can’t love.”

Taeil doesn’t react. He doesn’t understand.

“Yuta,” Sicheng whispers, desperate, hands travelling over the table to touch Yuta’s fingers. Yuta pulls away, ignoring him, because he won’t be able to function otherwise. And when Sicheng talks again, he repeats the same word, but on the verge of tears. “Yuta.”

Even if Taeil is lost, Sicheng’s attempts to silence Yuta are enough of a proof that Yuta is telling the truth. It serves as a confirmation for Yuta as well, because a part of him hoped that his assumptions were wrong after all.

They’re not.

“What?” Taeil mutters, voice cracking. His arms tremble, fingers shaking so bad that he nearly knocks his mug over, and he doesn’t dare to glance at Sicheng. He forces himself to look at Yuta, only at him, but that won’t make a difference; Sicheng’s problem won’t dissipate just because Taeil refuses to acknowledge it. “What do you mean he can’t love?”

Sicheng lets out a small noise, like an animal falling after being hit with an arrow. Yuta takes a deep breath, looking for the courage to express it out loud, so explicitly that it will destroy the three of them.

“He’s under a curse that won’t let him fall in love with those who are in love with him.”

Silence. Then Sicheng sobs, a sob that breaks the silence to transform it in something much worse. Yuta has never seen him cry, not with real tears rolling down his face, not with his lips swelling up and his eyes looking at Yuta like he’s slowly sinking a blade in his stomach. Pleading.

Taeil looks as terrified as Sicheng, as terrified as Yuta feels. It’s fine that Taeil is incapable of looking at Sicheng while he cries; it’s too shocking, because none of them had ever thought that Sicheng was held back by a curse, just by his own will. Sicheng, who looked so free and independent, was tied by his hands and legs. He could sleep a million times with them, but Yuta and Taeil’s kisses weren’t going to erase his curse, weren’t going to make him fall in love.

The curse holds many meanings for the three of them. The most destructive one is that Yuta and Taeil are in love with Sicheng. That Sicheng kissed them, that first time, well aware that he was entangling them in a web of pain; that his selfishness, his need of being loved won over his consideration for them.

And yet Yuta doesn’t blame him for it. He’s in love with him. Sicheng has tried to love him back, but he can’t, and Yuta doesn’t regret any of his mistakes. If Sicheng is a mistake, if he’s irreparable, Yuta won’t throw him away like a broken toy.

Taeil looks down at the table, chest moving so hard that Yuta fears he’s having an anxiety attack. But when Taeil talks, he sounds firmer than before, much more composed than Yuta is.

“Is that true?” he asks Sicheng. Sicheng, unable to utter any noise except his cries, nods in shame. It’s frustrating that he’s ashamed of it. “When did it happen?”

Sicheng opens his mouth to reply, but he chokes on his own tears, bending over the table like this harms him on a physical level. It’s not an insane option, for Yuta doesn’t know how big the curse is. Some curses are structured for the victim not to talk about them if they don’t wish to be punished. It’d explain why Sicheng never revealed a single hint of his issue, and that’s why Yuta decides to stand up and walk over to Sicheng to console him. To his shock, Sicheng slings his arms around his hips as soon as Yuta is close enough, immersing his face on Yuta’s stomach.

Yuta cradles his head and lets him cry. He isn’t interested in why Sicheng is cursed. It doesn’t matter, after all, because that sort of curse can’t be reversed by the caster; the caster would have to be able to carry out the same spell Sicheng has been trying to do for months. Taeil throws an arm around Sicheng’s back, aware that he shouldn’t have pried that far, and leans his head on his shoulder.

It’s the three of them, like it has been from the beginning, even if a piece of the puzzle is broken and unconnected. Yuta used to believe that Sicheng united them more than they already were, because Taeil and he had messed around before Sicheng arrived, but they didn’t consider it a relationship. It became a relationship when Sicheng entered the picture, so both thought that Sicheng was the glue. He wasn’t. It was the other way around: Taeil and Yuta’s relationship was what maintained Sicheng in place, what he leaned on. If Taeil and Yuta didn’t love each other, Sicheng would have never dared to involve himself in this, even if he needed to be loved too.

When Sicheng manages to recover a bit of composure, he detaches from Yuta’s embrace, but not enough for them to see his face. He rests his forehead on Yuta’s stomach, but shrinks over himself, hands become fists against his thighs.

Then, with a small voice, he whispers, “I was a kid. It was as a revenge on my family.”

That confession breaks all of Yuta’s expectations. A love curse is rare, but it’s even rarer on a kid. It means that Sicheng might have never loved romantically. It means that he was cursed even though he was innocent of any mistake. But it makes sense, because whoever cursed him wanted to hurt his parents, and if Sicheng was a loved child, hurting the child was the cruelest way to hurt his parents.

Yuta is speechless, and so is Taeil. Taeil fixes his stare on Yuta in desperation, the glint of his eyes screaming that he doesn’t know what to do, that Yuta should have a solution. Yet Yuta doesn’t, and he merely caresses down Sicheng’s hair, which seems to help him to breathe better.

“I couldn’t love my family. I could remember how it was like, but I couldn’t do it anymore,” Sicheng continues. Then he dares to glance up at Yuta, every muscle of his body trembling, and Yuta discovers that his eyes are full of tears. Yuta’s eyes flow with tears too as soon as Sicheng looks at him and mutters, “I can’t love Chenle.”

That hurts more than anything else, Yuta can sense it. Sicheng has taken care of Chenle for so long, has made sure that he had a home and a family – that he had love – and Chenle adores him until the last fiber of his existence. Sicheng received all the affection Chenle has given him, from he was a kid to when he was a teen, and the most Sicheng could return was purely fake affection.

“Sicheng,” Taeil calls him, rubbing his nose against Sicheng’s neck. It’s almost indiscernible, but Sicheng bends towards the touch. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Sicheng doesn’t need to think about it. He must have spun the reasons in his head so many times, for so long.

Sicheng breathes in to talk, but a sob travels up his throat and muffles his words. Yuta rubs his thumbs on Sicheng’s cheeks to swipe his tears away, but it’s too much, and Yuta’s fingers are soaking wet in the blink of an eye.

“I wanted to love you back,” Sicheng cries out, and that’s what crushes him at last. “I really wanted to.”

 

 

 

 

The hardest part is to convince Sicheng that it shouldn’t be a secret.

There haven’t been many instances in which Sicheng was mad at them, but Yuta supposes that his curse is his weakest, most sensitive point. Taeil proposes the idea a night that the three of them are alone, right before Jaemin, Donghyuck and Chenle arrive at home. It’s Renjun’s birthday, so they gave them permission to mingle with other humans as long as none of them decided to befriend them excessively – it was a warning for Donghyuck, since Jaemin already has too much on his hands, and Chenle is completely whipped for Jisung.

“We are six witches,” Taeil reasons. Sicheng strides around the living room, stressed, and glances at the door from time to time, like the boys’ arrival is his worst fear. “It’ll be obviously more powerful that way, rather than with the three of us. They’re younger too, and we might need that vitality.” 

Yuta nods at Taeil, supporting his statement. A glower intensifies in Sicheng’s face.

“I don’t want Chenle to know this,” he claims. Yuta could have guessed that even before the proposal, but if it depended on Sicheng, he would never tell anyone. As though he can read Yuta’s thoughts, he frowns first at him and then at Taeil. “Don’t you get it?”

“I get it.” Taeil curls his fingers, summoning Sicheng, and Sicheng releases a sigh before obeying. He looks too young right now, at least in Yuta’s eyes, because he’s in a situation of extreme vulnerability. Yuta and Taeil could destroy him, could have renounced to him after knowing the truth, and even if they haven’t, Sicheng is taking a risk – irrational or not. Taeil squeezes Sicheng’s hands in his, pulling him closer. “But you don’t get it, Sicheng, you can’t understand why Chenle won’t hold it against you. You don’t know how it feels to love one of your brothers the way Chenle loves you. You could do a thousand horrible things and he would still love you. He’d hate you too, but still loving you.”

Sicheng’s jaw tenses up, words piling up as he tries not to reply. Taeil isn’t wrong, and Sicheng won’t understand because he’s projecting his own feelings on Chenle – what he would feel if one of them had lied to him for so many years – yet he’s missing the most important link of their relationship.

Sicheng licks his own lips, casting his glance to the floor. “What if it doesn’t work?”

“We pass this onto the coven,” Yuta answers, because that should have been their first plan. They’re attempting this in a smaller circle to respect Sicheng’s privacy, not to push him too further. Sicheng seems to think that Yuta has gone crazy, however. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“It’s not a thing you have to be ashamed of, Sicheng.” Taeil hauls his hands so that Sicheng shifts his attention towards him, leaving Yuta in peace. Sicheng grumbles and begrudgingly follows the movement, and Yuta has the urge to smile at him, because Sicheng acts like Yuta and Taeil are torturing him on purpose. “Are you afraid of being pitied? Because yes, they might pity you, but that pity might mean your freedom.”

And Yuta chirps, “And since when do we care about what the _big_ coven thinks of us?”

It takes some seconds for Sicheng to assimilate all that information, but then he scoffs, a smile slowly climbing on his lips. “I hate you two, you know?”

“Covens exist for a reason,” Yuta says, unable to conceal his satisfaction. Sicheng is making an effort to trust them. “Not for you to hide away when you need them the most.”

Yuta is about to expand his allegation, but he’s interrupted by the noise of the main door opening. While the three of them fall into a deep silence, conscious of what this implies, the giggling and hushed voices coming from the hall grow louder.

It’s not that late, so Yuta doesn’t understand why they’re walking into the house like they intend to go unnoticed. He doesn’t have time to wonder though, because Taeil smirks and screams in a fake indignant voice, “Lee Donghyuck! Come here right now!”

The call makes the other three witches go as silent as the dead. Sicheng has to cover his mouth not to laugh out loud, and when approaching steps can be heard, both Sicheng and Yuta have to turn their faces away from the entrance for a moment not to reveal their smiles.

The next second, Chenle, Jaemin and Donghyuck are standing one after another under the living room’s door, eyes shining like they’re asking for mercy. Jaemin’s hair is a mess, almost as bad as in the morning, and Donghyuck is sporting very obvious red eyes. Yuta hears Taeil grumble, because Donghyuck’s red eyes explain why they didn’t want to be found out. Without the need to discuss what strategy they’re going for, Yuta, Sicheng and Taeil just stare at them.

They don’t even last thirty seconds, perhaps because they’re already on edge, awaiting the scolding. Donghyuck is the first one to look for Jaemin’s eyes, and they exchange an odd glance that doesn’t clear up any of his doubts. Yuta believes that Chenle is more innocent than them, because it’s the two of them, together, who come up with the worst ideas.

Their communications fails, however, and that breaks Donghyuck’s composure.

“What’s happening?” he asks with a nervous laugh. But no one answers, and Sicheng even raises his eyebrow at him, challenging. That’s too much for Donghyuck, who turns to Jaemin again and accuses, “Did you snitch on me?”

“I didn’t!” Jaemin screams back, offended.

And Chenle grunts, “Shut up right now, you idiots!”

Both of them look at Chenle, attempting to catch on what they have missed. It’s not that hard, because Taeil releases a small snicker before going back to his previous serious role.

“Snitch?” Yuta repeats, amused. Then he scans Jaemin from head to toe, or rather, from toe to head, and at the end of that inspection there’s something that destroys Yuta’s will to scold them. Laughter bubbles up his throat, and he roars, “Jaemin, you have a hickey the size of the Pacific ocean on your neck.”

Mortified, Jaemin makes a noise that Yuta has never heard before, and tugs his jacket up to cover himself. Chenle laughs too, bending forward to check the hickey out, whereas Donghyuck is too nervous to find it funny.

“We’ll find out sooner or later,” Taeil assures them, pointing at Donghyuck. “But we have something important to tell you. Come and sit, mess one, two and three.”

There’s hesitation floating in the atmosphere for a few seconds, for they don’t trust that Taeil hasn’t prepared a trap for them. But as Sicheng sits next to Taeil, visibly troubled, Chenle takes the initiative and walks in, sitting in the closest sofa. Jaemin and Donghyuck whisper something to each other and follow suit, though Jaemin keeps holding his jacket’s hem up to conceal his neck.

Taeil doesn’t waste any time: he passes his stare over them, one by one, and announces, “We’re doing a spell tonight.”

Donghyuck frowns at him, slightly confused, “For what?”

“For Sicheng.”

The three of them spin to Sicheng’s direction, and Sicheng nods in resignation, yet doesn’t explain what’s going on. Yuta knows that he would like to do so, but from here he can see how Sicheng has to swallow the knot in his throat.

“For Sicheng?” Chenle repeats, not taking his worried gaze away from him.

“Yes.” Yuta’s confirmation doesn’t clear up anything, yet he smiles at them with a sweetness that he doesn’t display very often. “We are brothers, aren’t we?”

“Of course,” Jaemin says.

“And we love each other, don’t we?”

“Yeah.” It’s Chenle who confirms it this time, impatient. Among them, Chenle has always been the fastest to detect that they’re up to something, so he taps his feet on the floor as to hurry them up. “What is this about? I’m getting nervous.”

Yuta examines Sicheng’s expression one last time, and Sicheng moves his chin up, giving him permission to continue. The only sign of agitation Yuta catches is the subtle trembling in one of his knees; Taeil notices too, however, and his hand lands there to soothe the shaking.

“Sicheng has been carrying a curse for twelve years,” Yuta explains. Everyone believes him without questioning, because they wouldn’t joke about a curse. Because Yuta wouldn’t joke about Sicheng’s well being at all. “We’re doing this so Sicheng can love us back.”

Unlike Yuta has expected, none of them glance towards Sicheng. They’re processing the information they’ve just received, but rather than horrified – like Yuta felt when he found out – they’re confused. There’s a hint of anger on Donghyuck’s face as well, as though he’s about to ask _who_ did that to Sicheng, as though he’d chase after them across the world for cursing Sicheng.

“So,” Jaemin begins, slapping his hands on his legs and biting on his lower lip. “What do we have to do?”

Though Sicheng doesn’t say a word, he’s surprised at their disposition. Their brothers don’t ask questions, don’t intend to pry and bare Sicheng’s secret to the last bit of it. When Yuta asked if they were brothers, if they loved each other, he was testing their predisposition to accept Sicheng’s curse. However, it was unnecessary, because they’re not making it as dramatic as it is, perhaps because they ignore for how long Sicheng has failed.

“Go upstairs, take a shower, get your robes and then we’re going into the woods,” Yuta replies, and all of them jump on their feet, as if the sofa could burn them. They scramble to exit the living room, agitated, and before he can lose sight of them, Yuta yells, “And don’t lose the energy of that hickey, Jaemin.”

Taeil laughs a shaky laugh, and Yuta doesn’t understand why until he glances at him and discovers that Sicheng has thrown himself back on the couch, so relieved after the tension accumulated that he’s half passed out.

Taeil laughs, his cheeks protruding, and slips his fingers in Sicheng’s hand. It’s a simple gesture, but it’s so loving in Yuta’s eyes that he can’t help but smile at them. Sicheng has his eyes closed, yet Taeil smiles back at him and it’s a smile full of gratitude – because Yuta took the hard decision, forced himself to betray Sicheng’s trust in hope of giving him a better life.

 “Here we go,” Taeil fondly reassures Sicheng, but his eyes never leave Yuta’s face.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/renjucas)   
>  [Curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/berryboys)   
> 


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